


Begin Again

by theskipper



Category: Mighty Ducks (Movies)
Genre: Hockey, M/M, Minnesota Wild, Post-Canon, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:43:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7512247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskipper/pseuds/theskipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam, Charlie, and second chances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a post-canon future fic set in a non-lockout 2012-2013 NHL season. As such I've taken liberties with dates, activities, and people.
> 
> This is a WIP that I'm slowly working on between other writing assignments. It's plotted out but not fully written and has no set update schedule.
> 
> Please see the end notes for spoiler related warnings.

“Keys. Wallet. Phone. Keys. Wallet. Phone,” Charlie muttered to himself as he walked the short distance from the kitchen to the front door balancing a travel coffee mug and bagel while simultaneously trying to pull on a sweatshirt and not drop his backpack in the process. 

He paused in the front entryway, bagel clenched between his teeth and glanced at the mirror hanging on the wall. 

“Keys. Wallet. Phone,” he said to his reflection. 

A quick pat of his pockets confirmed he had both his wallet and phone. He grabbed the keys hanging off the hook right next to the mirror, slung the backpack over his shoulder and opened the door. 

“Keys. Wallet. Phone,” he said one last time as he closed and locked the door behind him.

Charlie looked around as he quickly walked towards his truck where it was parked behind his house. He started the vehicle and barely let it warm up before backing it down the driveway. He thought for sure he’d made a clean getaway, but when he looked over his right shoulder to make sure no one was on the sidewalk, he made eye contact with Mr. Pulaski who was rapidly waving his arm back and forth so hard he was splashing coffee over the side of his mug. There was no way to pretend he hadn’t seen him.

Great, Charlie thought with a glance at the clock on his dashboard as he stopped and rolled down the window. It’s like the guy had a sixth sense for the absolute worst time to stop him for a talk. 

“Good morning Mr. Pulaski,” Charlie said.

“Charlie! Did you see the news last night?” Mr. Pulaski leaned against the open window and took a large gulp of his coffee. 

“What news Mr. Pulaski?” Please, please let him get to the point soon. 

“About the park Charlie. They’re doing it. I told you, didn’t I? I told you that damn park board was in bed with that sleazy development company. Crooked, the whole lot of them. They say they’re just doing a survey to determine usage, but I know how these things work. Sure they say they’re investigating and looking into possibilities, but we all know they’ve made up their minds. They’re just taking the temperature of the people, trying to gauge the outrage.”

Another quick glance at the clock on his dash and Charlie’s heart sank. Mr. Pulaski had already worked up a full head of steam on the topic and barely paused for breath. 

“It’s bullshit is what it is Charlie. I was talking to Mona, and her grandkids are over there every weekend and you’ve got the Gustafson kids from down the block and the Krieger’s. Hell I’ve been out there walking Bud Saturday mornings and it’s packed to the gills. And not just when the ice is out either. All summer long there’s soccer and softball and all sorts of things going on.”

“Listen, Mr. Pulaski –“

“I was talking to Mona yesterday and we were thinking about getting some people together, rallying the troops so to speak. You know, at least making ourselves loud enough to be heard so they can’t pretend no one’s paying attention to what they’re doing.”

“Okay –“

“So we can count on you then?”

Charlie wasn’t completely sure what he was agreeing to, but if he didn’t get out of there in the next thirty seconds, he was going to be late. “Yeah, sure Mr. Pulaski. Drop by one night this week, and we can talk about it.”

“Well you know I can’t on Wednesday because I’m helping out with services at St. Peter’s. I’m an usher, you know.”

“I remember. And I’m sorry to cut you off, I really am, but I really have to get going. Any night you’re free Mr. Pulaski. Really, any night is fine.” Charlie’s finger hovered over the button that would roll up the passenger’s side window.

“Sure, Charlie. I’ll stop by one night. We’ll talk then.” Mr. Pulaski stood back from the truck and took another unhurried sip of coffee.

Finally, Charlie thought as he gave an exaggerated smile and waved, rolling up his window as he pulled out onto the street. As soon as he was out of sight, the smile dropped, and he rolled through several stop signs as he hurriedly left his neighborhood behind and merged into morning traffic. He turned up KFAN and let the morning chatter fill the quiet in his vehicle.

_Big news out of St. Paul yesterday as it was announced unrestricted free agent and hometown hockey hero Adam Banks has signed with the Minnesota Wild. The former University of Minnesota standout will be making his hometown debut at the X when the Wild face off against the Dallas Stars for the home opener Saturday, October 6th. We’ll have our own Wild Insider on here a little bit later to give us his take…_

**

“Mr. Goldberg,” Greg looked up from the updated contract offer he’d received and waved his assistant in, muting the call he was on. “Ms. Gaffney is here for your lunch appointment,” he said.

Greg held up a finger as his assistant showed Julie into the office. Julie nodded in response to his exaggerated apologetic look as he pointed at the phone and unmuted it. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she glanced around, taking in his office and the view looking out over Chicago. It wasn’t long before she moved closer to the far wall to get a better look at his personal wall of fame. The wall was a point of pride, a resume written in memorabilia, detailing his career as he ascended to partnership at Weiss and Goldberg. Youngest partner ever, Greg liked to remind people regularly. Greg watched openly as Julie took in the display, looking at each piece in turn. She paused the longest on a pair of pictures at the far end of the wall. They were completely dwarfed by the signed Broncos jersey gifted by his client after Greg negotiated a blockbuster deal for the MVP quarterback. Greg knew immediately which pictures she was looking at even though most people overlooked or dismissed them. Trust Julie to zero in on them.

“No, JD, goddamnit!” Greg turned his attention back to his call and the contract offer on his computer. “That’s not what we’re looking for. He’s got a family now, he wants stability and a longer term, none of this piddly two year shit. Two years is for guys with something to prove or with one bum knee out the fucking door. Is that what you’re trying to say here? He hasn’t proven himself? He’s on the downward slide? Because we both know he’s in his prime and there are twenty nine other teams that agree with me. He’s healthy, he’s stable, he’s got the numbers, and he’s a great guy to have in the room. The guy’s a goddamn saint JD.”

Julie turned away from the wall of fame, and he indicated one of the chairs in front of his desk. She took a seat and offered him that placid goalie face she made famous while still a kid in Nagano. Oh the papers had all said she was a longshot to make the team, but Greg knew better than anyone just what Julie “The Cat” Gaffney was capable of. He had never doubted her. When she beat out the other hopefuls to secure a spot as the second goalie on Team USA for the inaugural Olympics, Greg had tried to play it cool, but he’d been quickly swept up in the excitement with the rest of the kids from Eden Hall. And when she’d bent her head to accept the gold medal at the end of the tournament, he may have shed a tear or two. Not that he’d ever tell her that. She’d just use it against him anyway.

Julie’s eyes wandered to the Chicago skyline framed through the glass wall at his back. Greg wasn’t fooled. He knew without a doubt that she was memorizing everything he was saying, even if she didn’t have a notepad or recorder in hand. She may be Julie, but she was still a shark in the water journalist. And somehow, he wasn’t sure how, but all reporters were trained in baby journalism school to scent the slightest drop of blood in the water.

“That was years ago. He hasn’t stuck his pecker anywhere his wife hasn’t approved of in years. Water under the bridge, JD.” He rolled his eyes at Julie when she turned her attention back to him. “Longer term, JD. Give me some numbers for four years, shave some cash off the deal if you have to, but at least give me something better to take to him. Alright, alright, yeah. Okay, yeah. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’m lucky enough to be having lunch with the supremely talented and beautiful Julie Gaffney today, and while she doesn’t look pissed off yet, I’ve kept her waiting long enough. I don’t want to piss her off and have her break out her poisoned pen on me, or one of my clients.” Greg rapidly tapped his pen against his desk. “So you’ll put together some more numbers, something decent this time JD, and get them over to me and I’ll talk to him? Yeah. Okay. Yeah.”

He hung up the phone and took his ear piece off, setting it on the desk before leaning back in his chair. “Sorry about that. Thanks for coming Julie, especially on such short notice.”

“You caught me in Chicago between assignments,” she said with a shrug. “And you were so wonderfully vague on the phone that I was curious. I will admit though that I’m having a hard time believing you invited me to lunch out of the blue just to namedrop me into some negotiations.”

“What? That? No, that was just an opportunity that presented itself.”

“That you took full advantage of obviously. What’s in it for you if I don’t say anything sympathetic about the state of Bennett’s negotiations?”

“One, I never said I was talking about Bennett’s contract negotiation. Two, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you say. I’m not your editor.”

“So what is this lunch invitation really about Goldberg?”

Greg stood up and grabbed his jacket off the hangar in the coat closet. “Let’s go eat, and I’ll tell you all about it. Trust me, this is worth your time.”

“Is it big?” she asked.

“And exclusive,” he added watching as her eyes lit up at the word. Fucking sharks, every last one of them. He gestured for her to precede him out of the office.

“Nice pictures,” she said as they passed by his wall of fame. He glanced at the old framed copy of Let’s Play Hockey depicting the Ducks championship win over the Hawks hanging next to the team picture from their first year at Eden Hall. “Ducks always fly together.”

“It’s funny you should say that,” he said as he closed the office door behind them.

**

“Daddy?”

“Yeah buddy?” Adam glanced into the backseat where Tyler was sitting in his car set, a bunch of toys scattered around him. He was kicking his heels against the seat and flying his Iron Man action figure through the air with sound effects.

“Blu stopped.”

“Do you want me to turn it back on?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

Tyler was in a good mood, which was making this last leg of the drive easier for Adam. Over breakfast, before they had hit the road, he’d texted his mom to profusely thank her for booking him at the hotel with the water park the night before in Des Moines. The hotel itself hadn’t been anything spectacular, and definitely not where he’d have picked to stay on his own, but the awed look on Ty’s face as he took in the pirate ship and the slides was more than worth putting up with the high powered chlorine smell and so-so room service for the night.

“Daddy?”

“Yes Tyler?”

“When are we gonna get to Gramma’s?”

“About an hour.”

“How many minutes are in an hour?”

“Sixty.”

“I can count bigger than 100.”

“Yes you can.”

The sounds of Iron Man tumbling through the air with the steady backbeat of Tyler’s heels kicking against his seat were only slightly drowned out by the road noise of passing semis and cars.

“How many minutes now?”

“How many minutes for what?”

“Gramma’s.”

“About sixty.”

“Nuh-uh, you said sixty before. So what is it now?”

“Fifty-nine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Iron Man went back to saving the world in the back seat of Adam’s SUV. His phone rang, the caller ID flashing Greg’s cell number. With a quick glance at Tyler, happily distracted in the back seat, Adam pressed the button to answer the call.

“Where are you at?” Greg asked.

“We’re just past Owatonna.”

“You’re making good time then.”

“Yeah, so far so good.”

There was an awkward pause and a quick cough before Greg continued. “So I had lunch with Julie yesterday.”

“And?”

“She’s on board. She’ll do it.”

Adam let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He’d thought of how he’d feel in this moment so many times, but no matter what he’d thought or how he thought he’d been prepared, it didn’t compare to the equally dizzying feelings of relief and fear tying his stomach up in knots. 

“Banksy? You there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said finally. “It’s just…” he trailed off.

“Hey, listen man, we don’t have to do this. We haven’t committed to anything. You can still change your mind. We can figure something else out. Get you a girlfriend, deny everything, whatever. I can fix this.”

Adam took a deep breath and glanced in the rear view mirror at Ty happily somersaulting Iron Man across his car seat before landing on a plastic dinosaur. Adam wasn’t sure if Iron Man was trying to save the dinosaur or kill it. Maybe both. There was a smear of grape jelly leftover from breakfast on Ty’s cheek that he’d missed when cleaning him up in the hotel bathroom before they hit the road this morning.

“We talked about this Goldie. I want to do it. I’m ready,” he said. Saying the words out loud helped push back the edge of panic a little. 

_“Take control of the puck, take control of the game.”_ Coach Bombay's simple advice from years ago, something he repeated to himself regularly, came to mind.

“Set it up,” he told Greg more confidently. “I’m ready.”

**

“Hey, Charlie! Dude! Carpy just puked all over the locker room. It’s so gross. I think he had Skittles at lunch.” 

Charlie sighed and looked up from where he was re-stocking tape in the display case to see Mac, one of his rink rats, leaning on the counter, the frayed cuffs of his Gophers championship hoodie pushed up to his elbows. Mac was spinning a golf ball on the counter with one hand, the irritating sound adding to the almost daily headache Charlie could feel building behind his temple.

“Which locker room?” he asked as he grabbed the clipboard to reconcile the tape with the inventory list.

“Huh?” Mac asked. 

Charlie looked up when Mac didn’t answer right away to see his attention glued to a group of figure skaters walking by. Charlie fought to keep the grin off his face. Mac was probably his most persistent rink rat, there almost as much as Charlie was, and someone who lived, breathed and existed for nothing but hockey…until about a year ago when he’d suddenly started noticing girls. Figure skating girls to be precise.

Charlie liked Mac, saw a little of himself in the kid. He’d given Mac a few rides home on cold nights when Mac’s parents couldn’t come get him and Charlie didn’t want him walking or waiting for the bus. On more than one occasion when school was out, Charlie had pulled into the parking lot, his headlights catching Mac hunched into his jacket, breath puffing in the cold air as he waited for Charlie to show up and unlock the building in the morning. He was at the rink so much, and a pretty good kid, so Charlie had taught him how to drive the Zamboni to help out between practices and games when Charlie was busy with other things. He was even thinking of giving Mac a key to the rink over winter break this year so the kid wouldn’t have to freeze waiting for him to show up in the morning if he was running a few minutes late.

“Hey Jenny,” Mac said with a shy smile at one of the girls. Jenny and her friends burst out giggling and hurried along without saying anything, laughing and whispering among themselves. Mac’s shoulders slumped a little as they passed him by. Charlie bit his lip to keep the amusement off his face.

“Mac,” Charlie tried to get his attention. “Mac,” he tried again when the boy kept tracking the skaters’ progress across the lobby. “Which locker room?”

“Uh, B I think.” Mac said, never looking away from Jenny and her friends. To Charlie’s surprise Jenny looked back at Mac and smiled shyly just before the door to the ice closed between them. Mac’s shoulders lifted back up and he swiveled around with a triumphant grin on his face. 

Teenage infatuation, Charlie thought with wry amusement.

“Dude, it is so gross,” Mac said as he started bouncing the golf ball on the counter.

“Dude,” Charlie mocked as he confiscated the golf ball. He ignored Mac’s squawk of protest. “I’ll give you a week’s worth of drop in punches for free if you take care of it,” he said.

“What? No way!”

“A week of drop in and free skate sharpening,” Charlie upped the offer.

“Skittles, Charlie. Skittles. No one wants to experience _that_ rainbow.”

“Alright then,” Charlie said as he crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “Name your price.”

“A week’s worth of drop in, skate sharpening, and snacks,” Mac said.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve seen the way you eat, you’d bankrupt me. A week’s worth of drop in, skate sharpening, and nachos and a Coke every day for one week. No more.” Mac was tempted, Charlie could tell by the look on his face, he just had to tip him over the edge. “Saving money for the week means you could go to a movie. Maybe invite someone to go along with you,” Charlie hinted heavily as he looked pointedly over to where Jenny had disappeared through the doorway.

“Fine,” Mac said with a sigh. “You win.”

“Heads up,” Charlie called and tossed the golf ball back to Mac.

“Make sure to use the disinfectant too!” Charlie called as Mac disappeared into the storage closet.

“Yeah, yeah,” filtered out from the closet.

Charlie grabbed the pill bottle he kept under the counter. He tossed back a few Tylenol and went back to restocking and checking tape inventory.

**

Adam was surrounded by half unpacked boxes and regretting not taking his mom up on her offer of help getting the kitchen set up the day before as he searched through box after box looking for a coffee mug. So far he’d found the coffee pot, filters, and grounds and at this point was ready to just drink it straight out of the carafe if necessary. He grabbed the utility knife and was cutting into the third box labelled kitchen that the movers had stacked against the wall of the eat-in area when he heard the doorbell ring.

Please let it be someone with some coffee, he thought as he walked across the kitchen and into the foyer to answer the door.

“Cheddar!” Adam shouted as he opened the door to reveal his old friend and teammate.

“Christ, no one’s called me that in ages,” Cheddar said before stepping forward and wrapping Adam up in a quick hug. “Banksy, how the hell are you?”

“Good man, good. Come in, come in,” he said, motioning Cheddar inside. “Don’t mind the mess, I’m still unpacking,” he said as he gestured for Cheddar to follow him back to the kitchen.

“Is that coffee I smell?” Cheddar asked.

“Yup, and if you can help me find some mugs I’ll offer you some.”

“It’s a deal,” Cheddar said. He dug a pocketknife out of his pocket and cut into the closest box.

“So to what do I owe the honor of the great Corey Woodhouse coming all the way out to Orono to visit me this fine morning?” Adam opened a box and quickly moved on as he found nothing but Tupperware.

“I wanted to welcome you to town, see how you were settling in,” Corey said.

“Oh yeah?” Adam shuffled the boxes to get at an unopened one near the far wall.

“Yeah,” Corey said.

“It’s a work in progress, as you can see,” Adam replied, gesturing to the boxes scattered through the kitchen.

“Look what I found,” Corey called out triumphantly as he held two coffee mugs aloft.

“Still a hero, huh Cheddar?” Adam teased as he grabbed the cups from Corey’s hands to wash them. He poured two cups of coffee. “I’d offer milk or sugar, but I don’t think I have any.”

“It’s alright. I usually drink it black anyway. Amy’s on me to watch the sugar intake,” he said as he patted his stomach. “Put on a few pounds since my playing days ended. Sitting at a desk all day doesn’t help anything.”

Adam cleared off a spot around a couple of the stools at the island counter. “Here, have a seat.”

“The place looks nice,” Corey said, looking around the kitchen and dining area.

Adam snorted. “The place looks like a disaster right now,” he said as he nudged some boxes aside on the floor so he could lean on the counter.

“Well, yeah, but you can’t beat the view,” Corey replied as he looked out across the northern shore of Lake Minnetonka. “You have a boat yet?”

“I only moved in two days ago.” At Corey’s frank look, Adam grinned. “Yeah,” he said with a chuckle. “It’ll be here next week.”

“Atta boy Banksy. Always taking care of the important stuff.” Corey took in the piles of half opened boxes. “So do you have someone to help you with all of this?” He gestured to the mess.

“Bri. She’s my nanny slash personal assistant. Officially starts tomorrow.”

“She living here?”

“Sort of. I mean, she’ll have her own room here, especially with me traveling, but she also lives with a few friends of hers in an apartment near campus.”

“College student?”

“Yeah, she’s the niece of a buddy of mine. When I signed here, he called me up and let me know that if I was looking for help I should talk to her. Turns out that she and Ty get along real well so I hired her for the year.”

“Speaking of, where is the Ty-guy?”

“He’s with my mom for a few days, having a ‘gramma vacation’ as he likes to call it.”

“Cute,” Corey said.

“How’re Amy and the kids?”

“Good. They’re all good. She said to give you her love and that she wants you and Ty to come over for dinner one weekend before camp starts.”

“We’d love to,” Adam said as he got up to grab the carafe and refill their mugs. He studied Corey, watching the uncharacteristic way he kept fidgeting with his mug and looking anywhere but at Adam as he spoke. Between the random small talk and fidgeting, he had a sinking feeling he knew what was going on. “How long have we known each other Cheddar?”

“Years Banksy. I first laid eyes on you that weekend you did your visit at the U. Christ you were a baby faced rookie back then.” Corey chuckled nervously.

“Then do me a favor and spit it out. You didn’t show up here on a Sunday morning when you could be golfing to help me scour the kitchen for coffee mugs and ask how I’m doing.”

“Maybe I did,” Corey hedged.

“Cheddar…” Adam trailed off.

“Fine. I, uh, I had a meeting with Tom. And he knew we went back a ways so he asked me to drop in and see how you’re doing.”

Adam was disappointed at Corey’s words. “Somehow I doubt he’s interested in how I’m doing. He wants to know what I’m going to do.”

“He’s the PR Director for the Wild, Banksy, what else would you expect? He’s not a bad guy, but he is good at his job.”

Adam set his mug on the counter and rolled his shoulders as the tension started creeping up. He’d be glad when this was all over. He was probably just setting himself up for another round of stress and headaches, but the chance to worry about something other than this, something different, was so damned appealing. “I know he’s just doing his job. And I don’t begrudge him that. Honestly,” he added at Corey’s disbelieving look. “Listen, before I signed with the Wild I met with Fletcher, with Tom, with Coach and I told them straight up what was going on.”

“I heard. That was gutsy.”

Adam scoffed. “No, it’s what I had to do. There was no way I was going to blindside the organization with something like this. And we were in agreement, we were all in agreement.”

“Nothing’s changed on our end, Banksy,” Corey said. “Tom is just careful. He’s real careful and he hasn’t heard anything so he was curious. He thought maybe having a friend ask might be better than him so he asked if I would check in on you. That’s all this is, Banksy. I swear. I said yes because I wanted to see you, man. I wanted to see how you’re doing for myself.”

Adam’s irritation deflated at Corey’s sincerity. “The interview is in two days,” he said.

“Here?” Corey joked as he looked around at the unpacked boxes.

“No. My mom’s place. Dad’s den specifically.”

“The Shrine?” Corey laughed. “You’re going to do the interview in The Shrine?”

“Yup,” Adam said, fighting a small grin.

“Wow. Bet your dad never thought the Adam Banks Hockey Hall of Fame would be the backdrop for the biggest interview in sports history.”

“Hardly the biggest interview in sports history,” Adam scoffed.

“Don’t kid yourself Banksy,” Corey said, his tone turning serious. “This interview is big. What you’re doing is big. Are you sure you’re ready for it?”

“Yeah,” Adam said softly. He stared into his coffee mug before taking and dumping the rest of it in the sink. He turned back around and met Corey’s eyes. “I’m ready for this Corey.”

Corey stared at him in silence for several minutes. “I believe you are, Adam Banks,” Corey said as he stood up. “Out of everyone I know, if anyone could handle this and whatever it brings, it’s you.” 

Corey walked over to the sink and set his own empty mug down. He paused for a second, his hands resting on the edge of the sink before turning to his head to the side to face Adam. “I’m so proud of you,” Corey said. He placed his hand on Adam’s shoulder and squeezed gently.

Adam’s heart jumped at Corey’s words and his breath caught in his throat. “Thank you,” he whispered trying like hell to keep the emotional wobble out of his voice and failing.

“Oh shit. Just…just come here man,” Corey said as he grabbed Adam and wrapped him up in a tight hug. Adam hugged him back, just as fierce. “I’ve got your back, brother. Always.” Adam couldn’t respond, too overwhelmed by Corey’s support, so he just held on tight and felt lucky as hell that Corey was on his side.

**

_“I’m Casey McCall.”_

_“And I’m Dan Rydell, and tonight on Sports Night we’ve got an exclusive interview with newly signed Minnesota Wild forward Adam Banks, who sat down with our special correspondent Julie Gaffney for a candid interview. Folks, you’re not going to want to miss this one.”_

*

_“The Minnesota Wild organization prides itself on being a safe workplace free of discrimination for all employees on the basis of age, color, gender, gender identity, disability status, marital status, national origin, political persuasion, race, religion, sexual orientation, or veteran status. We signed Adam Banks to a contract based both on his impressive career on ice and his outstanding character off the ice…”_

*

_“Next caller, you’re on KFAN.”_

_“Yeah, I’m calling in on this Banks thing. I don’t understand how the Wild could sign him knowing he’s one of those perverts. It’s just disgusting. If I was his teammate I’d be asking for a trade right away. I’ve been a season ticket holder since the first season and I’m planning on cancelling my seats. What in the world were the Wild thinking?”_

*

_“Your former teammate, Adam Banks, has recently come out as bisexual. Does it bother you knowing you shared a locker room with a man who dates other men?”_

_“Does it bother you to ask such stupid questions?”_

*

_“The topic everyone’s talking about today is National Hockey League player Adam Banks coming out as bisexual in an interview. What makes Banks’ situation a little bit different from other players who have come out is that he’s still active in the league…”_

*

_“It’s safe to say all eyes will be on Banks and the Wild this season. And honestly, what mediocre franchise wouldn’t welcome the attention?”_

_“Are you saying the Wild signed Banks as a publicity stunt?”_

_“I’m not Fletcher, I can’t really answer that question, but...”_

*

_“So what do you think of the news about Wild forward Adam Banks?”_

_“Who cares? He was solid as a Gopher and even better the last few years out in Washington. If he can bring some of that stability to the Wild and add some secondary scoring, I don’t care who he gets his rocks off with off the ice.”_

**

“Charlie!”

“Mac, I’m a little busy here,” Charlie said. The Wild’s promo tour was going to be kicking off their annual summer trip around Minnesota and Iowa at his rink later that day. Charlie had been up to his eyeballs in preparations for the last week in addition to all the normal tasks of running a rink and was really feeling the crunch. A glance at his watch told Charlie that the PR interns would be there shortly.

“Here, be helpful,” he said as he passed over the keys to the supply closet, “Go make sure the bathroom is stocked with paper products.”

“Paper products?” Mac looked confused.

“Paper towels, toilet paper, you know, paper products.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say, ‘Hey Mac, go make sure the crapper has TP?’ That would have made a lot more sense.”

“Mac?” 

“Yeah, Charlie?”

“Go make sure the crapper has TP, would you?”

“See!” Mac threw his arms up in the air. “That made a lot of sense.”

“It did make a lot more sense,” a new voice entered their conversation.

“Thank you!” Mac’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit. You’re Adam Banks.”

Charlie winced at Mac’s language. They’d been working on curbing the worst of his swearing around the rink after some of the parents complained, but sometimes it slipped out. And then, the rest of Mac’s sentence registered. Adam Banks. Charlie spun around and his breath caught. Standing in front of him for the first time since they were teenagers was Adam Banks. Holy shit, was right.

“That’s me. And you are?” Adam extended his hand towards a frozen Mac.

“I’m Mac,” he said looking in awe at the hand that Adam had just shook. If he could get away with it, he probably wouldn’t wash it for a week.

“Nice to meet you, Mac,” Adam said and smiled. He swung his gaze over to Charlie. “Hey, Charlie.” Adam nodded his head at Charlie.

“You know each other?” The PR person at Adam’s side asked.

“We played together through high school,” Adam replied not breaking eye contact with the still silent Charlie. His smile was friendly enough but Charlie could see his eyes were a little wary while he waited for Charlie’s reaction.

Charlie shook himself out of his fog. When he’d gotten the list of players that would be at his rink, he’d been disappointed that he didn’t see Adam’s name on there, but it made sense. With the interview and everything going on, the Wild might not be bringing him on the tour. Charlie had done a quick scan of the other stops and hadn’t seen Adam’s name on any of those stops either. The little fantasy he’d entertained at the back of his mind of meeting up with Adam again had died a quick death. Apparently, though, it wasn’t quite as dead as he’d thought.

“Cake eater,” Charlie said. 

Adam threw back his head and barked out a laugh. And just like that, it was like a balloon popped and sapped some of the unseen tension away. “I will never ever live that down, will I?”

“Nope.”

“Well, great. You two are friendly. That makes this a little easier,” the PR person said. The worry lines in her forehead visibly smoothed as Charlie and Adam shook hands and hugged. “I’m Greta. Obviously you know Adam. He’s going to sub today for Nick whose wife is in labor. Kevin will be by later with Mikael and Ryan, the other two players on this stop today.”

“Nice to meet you, Greta,” Charlie shook her hand. He tried to focus on Greta’s rapid fire questions, but he couldn’t help stealing glances over at Adam who was watching both of them with his steady gaze.

“So, let me see where you’re at on the preparation list we sent, and we’ll go from there.”

“Right,” Charlie said. “Mac, bathrooms. Please.” Charlie reminded the uncharacteristically quiet Mac who was staring at Adam like he was a zoo animal. “Mac,” he prompted again and nudged the kid with his arm. Mac snapped out of it and backed away slowly, presumably headed towards the bathrooms, Charlie hoped. He nodded his head at Greta, “If you’ll follow me, I have the list in my office back here.”

With one last glance back at Adam, Charlie turned and headed toward his office. He was undeniably aware of Adam's steady gaze on him the entire way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos and comments! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far.

Adam’s relationship with PR was tricky, something that was true from the moment his name started appearing on pre-draft ranking lists through to today. He understood the need for it, being the little sibling of the major pro sports in North America, it was expected that all players pitch in to help sell the product and brand. Unfortunately, this often meant stifling himself and selling what was approved by the organization and league. Good looking single father? Check. Raised the Cup mere months after burying his dad? Check. Homegrown Minnesota boy who grew up playing at Eden Hall and later, the U? Check. 

Adam knew his role and understood his place in the narrative. It was comfortable, if restrictive. Easy, even as it chafed. And now, after his sit down with Julie and announcing to the world at large that yes, he was happily bisexual and yes, he dated both men and women, he was facing his first PR event and absolutely scared shitless.

Even his joy at seeing Charlie again, something he’d been secretly hoping for since moving back, was completely dwarfed by the acid churning in his stomach.

Adam turned on the cold water tap and splashed a little on his face. A discreet knock sounded at the bathroom door before it opened a crack. Adam expected to see Greta, so he was fairly shocked to see Charlie hesitantly poking his head in the door instead.

“Can I come in?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Adam grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and used it to wipe his hands before wadding it up and shooting it into the garbage can.

“They’re about ready for you out there.”

Adam’s heart lurched at the words and his breaths became faster and shorter. Shit. This had seemed like a good idea when Greta had called to see if he could do a last minute sub for Kevin. Bri was able to take Ty since his mom was busy, and he hadn’t thought twice about it. But now? Now he was having second thoughts.

“So, uh, listen. I have a favor to ask of you.”

Adam looked over at Charlie and felt his guard coming up. A favor? They hadn’t seen each other since high school. A seed of disappointment edged its way momentarily past the nervousness. One of the hardest lessons to learn as a pro athlete was who you could trust and who just wanted a piece of you for themselves. Adam liked to think he got along with most people, but he actually trusted very few which had served him well through his career.

Something of his distrust must have shown in his expression because Charlie blanched before pressing forward anyways.

“I know you have Greta. And she’s great, really efficient, and a little scary, but mostly efficient. But I was wondering, if, well, if you could sort of let Mac be your “assistant” today?” Charlie asked. “Normally I wouldn’t ask, but he’s kind of star struck right now, and it would be huge for him to be given some things to do like fetch new pens or water for you. Basically just let him hang around in the background. Maybe toss a few smiles his way?”

Adam felt his guard drop a little. “You want me to let the kid get me water?”

Charlie’s face was tinged pink, presumably with embarrassment, and he shrugged. “Yeah. He’s helpful, kind of my unofficial assistant around here, and I wanted to repay him for helping get the place ready. I mean if you’d sign something for him too, that would be great.” He trailed off.

Adam let out a slow breath. Here he’d been ready for Charlie to hit him up for money or season tickets or something equally outrageous, and all he’d asked was that Adam let a rink rat fetch him some water. “You know, that’s why Greta has interns. They get paid to fetch us water and pens.”

Charlie’s face fell. “I understand,” he said and turned to go.

“No, let me finish,” Adam said. Charlie paused with his hand on the door. “I was going to say that I’m sure Greta has some sort of other duties she can assign to one of the interns today, and I’d be happy to let Mac hang out with us at the table. And we can definitely get him some signed gear.”

Charlie smiled, and it was every bit as bright as Adam remembered. “Thanks for this. I really mean it. I owe you one.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Adam said as he followed Charlie out of the restroom and back towards the lobby.

**

“Alright, tell me, how are you settling in?” Goldie asked as soon as the waiter walked off with their orders.

“Fine. Bri and I met with Ty’s new teacher a few days ago and took him on a tour of the school. He’s excited to start kindergarten.” Adam wiped at the condensation ring on the table left behind by his glass of ice water. “The house is getting there. I met with a few of the guys who are around for some golf and beers the other day and got an invite to join the captain at his gym for workouts. I don’t know, it’s going as well as can be expected.”

“Good. That’s good. I talked to the front office and there’s been nothing out of the ordinary in the response that they’ve seen. I saw you even did one of the Wild tour events. Although the fact that they were going to exclude you in the first place is bullshit. I would have fought them for it, you know.”

Adam leaned back in his chair. “I know, Goldie. And I appreciate it, but honestly, I’m feeling a little exposed right now so it was okay with me.” At Goldie’s skeptical look he added, “Honestly.”

“Yeah, well, don’t think I’m not going to be keeping a close eye on them. If they try anything, and I mean anything, that smacks of exclusion, I’m your first call, you got that?”

“Yeah, Goldie. I got that.” Goldie had a reputation as being one hell of an asshole for organizations to deal with, and it was definitely a deserved reputation that Goldie had spent years cultivating. But being Goldie’s client meant that all that assholish devotion was for your benefit, and that Adam was grateful for. After his first few years in the league, a lot of people whispered Adam was an idiot for jumping ship from a large successful agency to sign with Goldie, fresh out of law school and newly credentialed. Placing his negotiations in the hand of an untried agent? A bad move. But those doubters didn’t know Goldie like he did. Adam had never regretted signing on as Goldie’s first client. It was a business relationship that paid off for both of them, but more than that, it was a unique friendship built on trust that not many of his teammates had with their own agents.

“So the tour kick off? It went okay?”

“It went fine. Oh! Did I tell you who the rink manager was? Charlie Conway.”

“No shit?”

“And first thing he said to me was ‘cake eater’,” Adam said.

Goldie laughed. “Goddamn, Charlie. Fucking beautiful.”

“It was good to see him. He looked good. I didn’t get to talk to him much, but it was pretty much same old Charlie. Running the joint, corralling everyone and everything. He’s got this kid, Mac, and he finagled us into letting the kid be our helper for the day to repay him for helping out. Good kid.”

“I didn’t know Charlie had a kid.”

“Not his. Or, well, I don’t think so? Just one of his rink rats, I think,” Adam said. “I was thinking of bringing Ty over there for a free skate, maybe see if I can catch up with him a little more.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“It’s Charlie, Goldie. Not some random guy.”

“No, no. I get that. It’s just,” Goldie leaned forward and pitched his voice lower, “Everything’s been real quiet lately, but that doesn’t mean we’re totally in the clear. Just keep your priorities in mind.”

“Jesus, Goldie. You don’t have to remind me about my priorities. Ty and hockey. I got that. I just thought it would be nice to catch up with an old friend. Someone who isn’t involved in any of this,” Adam said and waved his hand in a vague gesture.

“Calm down, Adam. It’s not like I think Charlie would sell you out or anything. But think about it from a different perspective. You yourself mentioned you feel exposed right now, after everything. You’re under more scrutiny. Anyone you’re seen with, whether it’s just buddies and beer or a date, is going to face increased scrutiny. And if the leak actually gets out? The potential media shitstorm makes this interview aftermath look like a fucking church social.”

Adam exhaled and looked down at the table. Goldie was right. You didn’t get to his age without baggage being part of the deal, but Adam’s particular brand of baggage was…messy.

“Look man, I don’t want to make you feel bad. But when we talked about this, back when you first learned about the leak, you said you wanted to keep your head down, protect Ty, and play hockey while I took care of everything else. So this is me, taking care of everything else.”

Adam looked up and met Goldie’s concerned gaze. “You’re right.”

“Damn straight, I am. That’s why you pay me the big bucks,” he said with a grin. “I’m not saying don’t make friends with Charlie or catch up with him, or hell, date him if he’s into it, but I got some old loyalty to him here too. Like you said, he’s not a part of all this, but Banksy, whoever you hang out with may potentially become a part of it whether you want them to or not.”

Adam was saved from any further conversation by the waiter appearing with their steaks. While he’d been hungry when they first met for lunch, the ensuing conversation with Goldie had heartily diminished his appetite. 

It wasn't that Goldie was saying anything Adam didn’t already know at some level. He was just putting out there what Adam would prefer to not have to think about. Publicly revealing his bisexuality was the first step in the damage control plan Adam and Goldie had put together after his ex called to warn Adam that his phone had been included in the latest round of celebrity hackings. Adam had been both irate and terrified to learn that potentially revealing information about him, including texts and images, was more than likely among the data compromised. In contrast, Goldie had been nothing but calm and thorough. He’d caught the first flight out and locked himself in Adam’s place for the next week, alternating between phone calls with his assistant, Adam’s ex’s PR team, and conferring with Adam himself as he built a comprehensive plan for dealing with this that Adam felt comfortable with.

Adam took a bite of his steak and chewed slowly, the food tasteless in his mouth, as he mulled over Goldie’s words. As much as he wanted to catch up with Charlie, maybe even see if they could rekindle their old friendship, it wouldn’t be fair to Charlie to drag him into Adam’s life while this sword hung over his head, poised to drop at any minute.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented or left kudos. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

“Charlie! Charlie! Over here!”

Charlie looked across the old school gym that doubled as a school cafeteria trying to locate who was calling his name. His eyes caught on Mr. Pulaski, cupping his hands over his mouth as he called again, “Charlie!” Mr. Pulaski waved his arms. Charlie felt his face redden in embarrassment as people looked his way. He recognized several people from the neighborhood. Up in front, by Mr. Pulaski, was Mona Syverson chatting with the Gustafsons. There were many more people whose names he didn’t know, but he recognized them from walks or Mrs. Syverson’s annual holiday party.

Charlie pulled off his jacket. The room, with its lingering smell of leftover lunch and institutional cleaner, was pretty warm already, and the meeting hadn’t even started.

“Excuse me,” he murmured and darted between some people milling around in the aisle as he made his way to the front of the room where Mr. Pulaski had saved him a seat.

“Hi Mr. Pulaski.”

“Hey, Charlie. I got here early so I could mingle with some of the others and get a good seat. I’ve got a whole list of questions I want this city planner and his cronies to speak to.” He patted his shirt pocket. Charlie could see a ragged piece of lined paper sticking out. “Not that this whole job isn’t a crock, but I don’t want them to think they’re going to have it easy.”

“Save it for the meeting, Frank,” a smooth voice chimed in. “Charlie, dear, you look hungry. Did you eat before you came over?”

Charlie smiled. “I didn’t get a chance to, Mrs. Syverson.” Mona Syverson was a widow two times over who lived a few houses down from Charlie and Mr. Pulaski. She’d been in the neighborhood almost as long as Mr. Pulaski and knew everything about everyone. When Charlie bought his house a few years back, she’d stopped by before he and Gordon had even finished unloading the U-Haul with some sour cream raisin bars. Before he knew it, she had gleaned half his life story from him. Charlie wasn’t so sure she wasn’t a former spy. But, she kept him in homemade goods and the occasional dinner in exchange for some light home repair, so he wasn’t going to complain.

“I thought as much. Here, I brought this for you. It’s a fresh batch this week.” She dug through her purse and pulled out a small plastic bag filled with homemade beef jerky. “I’m experimenting with a new seasoning mix, so you’ll have to let me know how they are.”

“Too peppery,” Mr. Pulaski grumbled. 

One of the men in suits who had been standing off to the side walked forward to the center of the front table that had been set up. He raised his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright folks, if you could start making your way to the seats, we’ll begin momentarily.”

“Prick,” Mr. Pulaski muttered.

Charlie almost choked on the bit of jerky he was chewing. “Peppery,” he mumbled when Mr. Pulaski looked over at him. 

“I told you.”

Charlie sank down into a seat between Mr. Pulaski and Mrs. Syverson. He turned around for another glance at the crowd. It was good-sized, probably about 25 people or so. He was mildly surprised, but then it was hard to tell how many people would have shown if Mr. Pulaski hadn’t been making his rounds and ruffling feathers for the last few weeks.

“Thanks for coming out, everyone.” The suited man spoke up again. “I’m Mike Jenkins with the Planning Commission. Joining me tonight are Sheryl Bridges from the Park Board and Elliot Andersen from Andersen Development.” Both Sheryl and Elliot gave nods as they were introduced. “We’re here tonight to discuss Viking Park and clear up some of the misinformation we feel may be circulating about what we’re doing.”

Mr. Pulaski snorted loudly, and Charlie felt all three pairs of eyes from the front of the room zero in on them. 

“Misinformation. Lies. Tomato. To-mah-to.”

Charlie slid a little lower in his seat, trying to keep from hunching his shoulders up to his ears, as more pairs of eyes fixed on them with each of Mr. Pulaski’s increasingly loud mutterings.

“Everyone will have a chance to speak and be heard before the group,” Jenkins said while looking at them pointedly.

**

“Word is things got a little heated at the Viking Park community meeting the other night.”

Charlie groaned. He should have known the gossip would make its way over to Gordon. There wasn’t much that got by him. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, setting his cell on the counter and hitting speaker.

Gordon chuckled. “Fine, but remember, if you get arrested, don’t say anything without your lawyer present. Anyway, that’s not why I’m calling. I wanted to make sure we were still on for dinner Saturday?”

Charlie saved the rink event schedule he was working on and glanced at his calendar. “Yeah, still good for me. Where do you want to go?”

“I was thinking we could meet up at Three Peppers. Listen, Charlie, would it be okay if I invite someone?”

“Like a date?”

“No. Not like a date.” 

Charlie heard the scorn in Gordon’s voice and it only served to egg him on. “Gordon, I keep telling you, you’re a catch. You still have your hair, most of your teeth, a job.”

“Har har, joker.”

Charlie leaned back in his chair and tapped a pen on his desk simply because he knew it drove Gordon crazy.

“I thought I’d see if Adam could join us.”

“Banksy?” Charlie sat up straight in his chair, wincing at the loud creaking noise it made.

“Yeah, I figured you’d be okay with it, but I wanted to run it by you first.”

“Yeah. No. Uh,” Charlie winced as he fumbled his words. “Sorry. What I meant was yes, that’s totally fine.”

“Great! I’ll text him and let him know. See you Saturday, Charlie.”

“Yeah, Saturday,” Charlie muttered as the phone disconnected on Gordon’s end.

**  
Charlie kept one eye on the game highlights on the Twins highlights on the TV over the bar and the other on the door. Gordon had texted just as Charlie was pulling into a parking space that he was going to be a little late and that they should go ahead and grab a table. So now Charlie was sitting by himself, waiting for Banksy, and feeling strangely nervous about it. 

He knew he was being ridiculous. This was Banksy. Why the hell was he feeling anxious about seeing him again? They’d had a good time the day he’d been at Charlie’s rink. Of course, they hadn’t really been alone other than those few minutes in the bathroom. Charlie sipped his soda and tried to concentrate on the Fox Sports North commentators.

The door opened, and Charlie felt his adrenaline spike. He glanced over, but he didn’t recognize the people who entered. He fiddled with his phone a little, wondering what the chances were of Gordon getting there before Banksy.

The door opened again, and a little boy walked in, quickly followed by Banksy. Charlie wiped his sweaty palm on his shorts while Banksy scanned the room. He lifted his hand in a small wave and felt his stomach tighten as Banksy nodded and broke out in a grin before bending down and pointing him out to the kid.

Charlie slid off his bar stool as they approached.

“Charlie! Great to see you again.” Banksy pulled him into a quick hug and thumped him on the back twice. “Ty, this is one of daddy’s old friends, Charlie. Can you say ‘hi’?”

Charlie looked down at Banksy’s kid who was busy tucking himself up against Banksy’s legs. At least shy kids were something Charlie felt okay with. He bent down so he was on Ty’s level. “Hey, Ty. My name is Charlie.” He nodded at the action figure that was clutched in the hand not currently grasping onto Banksy’s legs. “I see you like Iron Man.” Ty stared back at him with wide eyes as he talked. “I hear he’s a pretty cool guy.”

“He’s the best,” Ty said softly. 

“Yeah? What’s his best move?”

Ty let go of Banksy’s leg and grasped the action figure, showing off a convoluted set of kicks and flips.

“Wow. That is awesome. No wonder he’s the best.”

“I can show you more,” Ty said with more confidence.

“I’d like that.” Charlie smiled and stood back up. Banksy was grinning at him and Charlie felt warm all over.

“Gordon texted that he’s running late, but said we should grab a seat.”

“Okay.” Banksy nodded his head towards the bar and a waitress appeared with menus in hand almost immediately. As they weaved through the tables and followed her to a booth set against the far wall, Charlie noticed people turning their way and murmuring amongst themselves.

Charlie was taken aback until he remembered. Banksy. The Wild. This wasn’t like having dinner with Lester when he swung through town visiting his family. He was having dinner with a hometown hockey star so there was bound to be more attention when they were out in public.

“Sorry,” Banksy muttered.

“What for?”

Banksy’s eyes indicated the room behind them as Ty noisily climbed into the booth making sure Iron Man did his flips the whole way across the back of the booth before kicking off the wall and landing on the table hard enough to rattle the silverware the waitress had set down.

“You get used to it after a while. God, I feel like an asshole saying that, but it’s true.”

Charlie felt the back of his neck prick as he imagined all the eyes of the room on them and had to fight the urge to hunch his shoulders.

“Hey, Ty? Let’s go sit in the other booth, buddy. Let Charlie sit here.” He leaned in closer to Charlie and whispered in his ear so the waitress hovering nearby for their drink orders wouldn’t overhear. “It’s easier to sit with your back to them.”

“I want to sit with Charlie,” Ty insisted.

Banksy looked like he was about to object so Charlie interjected. “Ty was going to show me some more of Iron Man’s sweet moves.”

“Please, dad?”

“Are you sure?”

Charlie shrugged. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Banksy looked a little apprehensive as he slid into the booth across from them. The waitress took their drink order and left to get it filled which meant they were now alone in a room full of people Charlie imagined were watching their every move. Maybe even snapping pictures. The anxious feeling returned.

“If he gets to be too much, I’ll bring him over here.”

“No, daddy!” Ty exclaimed loudly.

“Inside voice, buddy. If you’re going to sit over there, then you behave and listen to Charlie, okay?”

Ty nodded and Charlie felt himself start to relax as Ty began showing him some of Iron Man’s best moves complete with sound effects.

“Do you have any kids?” Banksy asked after the waitress dropped their drinks off.

Charlie shook his head. “No. I don’t have anything against it, I just haven’t found the right person to settle down with and do the whole family thing.”

“I wasn’t sure if Mac was yours, or-“

Charlie barked out a laugh. “No, not mine. But some days it feels like it.”

“So how long have you been managing the rink?”

“Several years now. I started out part-time helping the old manager out while I worked full-time at my old job.”

“The warehouse?”

Charlie was startled. How did Banksy know about that?

“Gordon mentioned you working at a warehouse a few times. I guess it just stuck,” he said.

“Uh, yeah. I started there when I came back from to the cities after I stopped playing.” Charlie paused to see if Banksy brought up anything about the accident, but he just nodded for Charlie to continue. “So I was there for a bit, then got hooked up helping at the rink, through Gordon, of course.”

“Of course.” Banksy smiled and took a sip of his drink.

“I liked being at the rink, working with the kids, and stuff. A lot more than I liked the warehouse. So I went to one of the tech schools and got a degree in business administration then took over as manager when Frank retired.”

“From what I saw, you’ve got a great place there. And everyone who came through the line had nothing but good things to say about you. You should be proud of yourself.”

“And that’s how I know you’re lying.”

Banksy’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

Charlie chuckled. “I released the winter schedule for the rink and have been fielding several angry phone calls and emails from some disgruntled parents who aren’t happy with ice time. So I know that not everyone has good things to say about me.”

Banksy grinned. “Alright, I may have exaggerated a little when I said ‘everyone’.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“But,” Banksy continued, “There were several people who really did have nice things to say about you.”

“So,” Charlie said in a blatant attempt to change the conversation, “How about you? Any other kids besides Ty?”

“Nope, it’s just Ty and me.” Charlie watched as Banksy fiddled with the straw in his drink. “I’m assuming you saw the interview I did with Julie?”

Charlie nodded. Of course he’d seen it. You couldn’t go anywhere and not see it or hear about it whether it was in the paper, online or even just people talking about it out in public.

Adam grimaced. “Right, stupid question. Anyway, Jess and I split up a few years back, not too long before my dad died, and I have physical custody of Ty.”

“That’s…” Charlie struggled to find the right word.

“Unusual?” Banksy supplied. “Yeah, but it worked out best for all three of us. Jess and Ty get four weeks together in the summer, which is good for both of them.”

“So I take it you and Jess, I mean, the divorce, was amicable?”

“About as amicable as it could be, I guess. I don’t have much to compare it to. There was plenty of hurt feelings and grief to go around, but it wasn’t like some of the ones I’ve seen other people go through with constant arguments and court dates and long drawn out fighting over little stuff like brass candlestick holders.”

“That’s good.” Charlie felt awkward commenting on Banksy’s past divorce.

“What else can you say, right?” Adam shook his head. “Anyway, since then, I’ve dated a bit, and there was someone I was pretty serious about, but it didn’t work out. Unfortunately, this means my mom has been dropping hints all over the place that I just need to find a nice homegrown Minnesotan to make my life complete.”

“That’s because your mom is a very smart woman who knows the value of a Minnesotan. Sorry I’m late, guys.”

Gordon stood at the end of the table. Charlie was startled to remember that they’d been waiting for Gordon to join them. How could he have forgotten?

“Gordon!” Ty shouted and Charlie quickly scooted out of the way so he could climb out of the booth and into Gordon’s outstretched arms.

“You guys haven’t ordered yet?” Gordon said around an armful of wriggling kid.

“We were catching up,” Banksy said. “I guess we just lost track of time.”

“They lost track of time?” Gordon looked seriously at Ty. “Ty, you’re supposed to keep track of that for daddy. What happened? Doesn’t Iron Man wear a watch?”

Ty crinkled his nose up and giggled. “No, silly.”

“Don’t you wear a watch?” Gordon teased.

“No,” Ty said between giggle fits.

Gordon mock-sighed. “Kids these days.”

“Iron Man isn’t a kid.”

“Superheroes and kids, then.”

Ty squirmed to get down and grabbed Gordon’s hand. “Sit with me. Daddy, you sit with Charlie,” he said as he pushed the back of Banksy’s leg. “They keep talking, talking, talking,” he said and mimed a mouth with his hand.

“You heard the kid, boys. You two over there, while I sit with Ty and Iron Man.”

There was an awkward moment as both he and Banksy went to get into the booth but ran into one another. “You first,” Banksy said with a gesture. Charlie scooted in and made room for Banksy to sit next to him. Charlie watched Gordon with Ty and tried to quench the odd feeling of disappointment that it wasn’t just the three of them any longer. Which was absolutely ridiculous considering how nervous he’d been while waiting for Banksy to join him earlier.

The waitress came back and took Gordon’s drink order, bringing refills for the rest of them. “Are you guys interested in any appetizers to start with?” She took their orders and disappeared with the menus. Ty caught Gordon’s attention and Charlie felt some of that initial awkwardness creeping back in.

“Hey,” Banksy said quietly. “So, uh, don’t take this the wrong way but I enjoyed catching up with you. Do you want to hang out sometime?”

Charlie covertly glanced at Gordon and Ty. Gordon looked enthralled in whatever Ty was telling him, some story about someone named Bri, by the sound of it, but he had no doubt Gordon was keeping tabs on them too. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he said. “What’s your number?”

They swapped numbers and Charlie was just shoving his phone back into his shorts pocket when Gordon looked up. Charlie knew that look. He’d seen that look too many times. Gordon looked smug. Charlie was about to ask him what he was so smug about when someone walked up to their table. 

“Excuse me." Charlie turned his head. The kid who had approached them was probably no more than 9 or 10. “Mr. Banks?”

Charlie saw a split second of irritation cross Banksy’s face before he turned to face the kid. “Hey,” he said, all traces of irritation vanished.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if I could have your autograph?” The kid sheepishly held out a slip of paper that looked suspiciously like receipt. Charlie glanced up at the kid’s mom standing a few feet behind her son.

“Sure,” Banksy replied smoothly. He spent the next few minutes chatting with the obviously nervous kid and his mom. No sooner had they stepped away before a little girl walked up with a paper kids menu and crayon in hand.

Charlie watched as Banksy deftly handled all requests for autographs and photos with never ending patience, making sure to take a few minutes to chat with the people who did approach him. It wasn’t until the waitress came out with a tray full of food up high on above her shoulder that the few remaining folks milling about drifted away so they could eat while their food was still warm.

“Does that ever get old?” Charlie asked between bites of his burger.

“It’s part of the job.”

“Even when you’re out with friends and having dinner?”

Banksy shrugged. “It happens. I’m sure some of it is because I’m new to the team. Well, and this is Minnesota. After a while, it will die down.”

“Is it always like that?”

“It depends on where you are. Some places are a little more hockey-crazy than others. I think the oddest place I was ever recognized was in a bathroom in Mexico.”

“Really?” Gordon interjected. “Mexico?”

“I was on vacation and went into the bathroom to take a leak at the resort. It was a public one because I didn’t want to go all the way up to my room. Some guy comes in after me, steps up to the urinal. I’m just about to zip up when he shouts my name.” He glanced to make sure Ty wasn’t paying attention before he said softly, “Now I’m not against some guy shouting my name with his hand on his dick, if you know what I mean, but standing at a urinal in a Mexican bathroom?”

Charlie laughed. “Did he ask for an autograph?”

Banksy shook his head. “Worse. He wanted to shake my hand.”

Charlie shuddered. “What did you do?”

“What could I do? I shook his hand. And then when he left I washed my hands a couple times and went back out. Worked out in the end, I guess. The resort was all-inclusive, but I ran into them around town a few times. Each time, he or his buddies would send me a pitcher of margaritas or some beer. Looking back, I don’t think I paid for any drinks outside of the resort the rest of my vacation either.”

“Only you, Banksy,” Gordon shook his head.

“It would have been rude to decline.”

By the time the waitress brought the check, which Gordon took care of over both their protests, Charlie was sad to see the evening coming to an end.

Back in his vehicle, Charlie slid his sunglasses onto his face when he heard the tell-tale beep of a new text message. The display showed it was from Banksy.

_I had a really good time tonight_

He texted back quickly.

_Me too_

There was no reply, but he didn’t really expect one. It didn’t stop him from rolling down the window, turning up the radio, and singing along as he pulled out into traffic.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and lovely comments. They make my day when I get them.

“How’s camp going?” Cheddar asked as he crossed the patio and dropped into the lawn chair next to Adam. He gratefully accepted the cold beer Cheddar handed him and took a long swig before answering.

“Good. Goddamn rookies with their wide-eyed, pimply-assed earnestness are making me feel old and jaded, though.”

“That’s because you are old and jaded.”

Adam clinked his bottle against Cheddar’s in agreement.

“Any problems?” Cheddar asked.

Adam watched as Ty and Cheddar’s kids climbed across the playground that was in the middle of the yard. They were playing some sort of game that involved frequent yells and laser sounds with occasional high pitched meows. 

“Nothing I didn’t anticipate.” Which was true. Adam had expected some of his teammates would steer clear of him, whether for personal reasons, or just not wanting to face the inevitable media circus that leeched out and ensnared anyone close to him. Thankfully, Cap and some of the guys who’d been around, some of the guys he’d played with in college or around the league, weren’t scared away. He wasn’t ostracized, but he could also tell who wouldn’t be inviting him out for beers, either. Maybe if he was younger, greener, it would have bothered him. But at this point, with his priorities set and just being back in Minnesota and having his mom, Cheddar, Gordon, and even Charlie around, he didn’t need his entire life to revolve around the team.

“I’ve kept an eye on some of the media bullshit,” Cheddar said.

“And?” Adam didn’t pay attention to the write ups any longer. Another thing that had faded with age and experience. When he was younger, hungrier about getting established as an NHL player, he’d wasted too much time reading the articles about himself. Partly because he wanted to know what they were saying and partly because his dad had read everything zealously and would reference an article or blog post each time he talked to the old man on the phone. It was another thing that had fallen away over time, to the point now that he didn’t even pay attention. And definitely not after the interview with Julie. It was all noise at this point, and he had Goldie and the organization keeping an eye on that part of it. He was only focused on getting ready for the season and playing his best game on the ice while they kept up with everything else.

Cheddar shrugged. “A few puff pieces, some hit pieces, nothing really original or worth noting. I will say that you are quoted more often in articles now than you ever were before.”

“You track that stuff?”

“We have an intern who does it. They noticed you are quoted more often now than you were before the interview. I forget what the ratio is, but they make charts and all that good stuff.”

“I’m glad to know my professional life has boiled down to article quotes and pie charts.”

“Don’t be like that, your entire professional life has been tracked via stats and turned into charts and graphs from the moment you took your first shift, as you well know.”

“The business side of the game,” Adam scoffed.

“Watch your tone, young man,” Cheddar pointed his beer bottle at him. “That business is what bought you this beer and your house and gave you the cash that sits in your bank account.”

Adam threw his hands up. “No offense, man. I’m well aware of the career I chose and how I’ve earned my living.”

“Sorry,” Cheddar said. “I get a little too defensive about the business end of things sometimes.”

“Cheddar, I’d be more worried if you didn’t get defensive about the business end of things. It’s your job to make sure the business is successful, and I’ve never known you to half-ass anything in your life.” Adam sipped his beer. “Even if it does make you a front office puke in a suit,” he said with a teasing grin.

“Asshole,” Cheddar replied with a fond chuckle.

“And what are you two out here talking about?” Amy, Cheddar’s wife, asked as she stepped through the sliding door onto the patio. “Are you solving the problems of the world?”

“Mainly talking about how Cheddar sold out and turned into a front office drone,” Adam replied.

“Hey!” 

Amy nodded solemnly. “It’s true, Adam. I married a hockey player and now I wake up next to a middle management suit.” She settled on the arm of Cheddar's chair.

“Ha, ha, very funny.”

“You’ve become ‘The Man’, sweetheart. Admitting it is the first step to acceptance.”

“You know, I didn’t invite Adam over here so you two could gang up on me,” Cheddar said.

“No, you invited him for dinner,” she said. “The poking fun at you is just a side benefit for me.” Amy leaned over and kissed Cheddar’s forehead before hopping up as he shooed her away.

“Mocking me and then trying to steal kisses? Get outta here with that!”

Amy laughed and dropped another kiss on the back of Cheddar's head when he wasn't looking. “Want me to take over kid duty while you make dinner?”

“I suppose it is that time, isn’t it?”

“If we don’t feed them soon, the children may start gnawing on my flowers,” she replied.

“Do you need any help?” Adam asked as Cheddar stood up and stretched.

Cheddar shook his head. “Nah. You might as well stay out here with Ames and rip on me some more. At least I’ll be out of earshot.”

“Do you need another beer?” Amy asked as Cheddar disappeared inside through the sliding glass door.

Adam shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m good for now.”

Amy settled into Cheddar’s vacant chair and slid a pair of sunglasses over her eyes to block out the late day summer sun. “I’m glad you signed here. Corey would probably never say it, of course, but he’s happy you’re back too. We’ve both missed you.”

Adam smiled. “I’m happy to be back here, too. I’ve felt….I don’t know, I guess content is the best way to describe it, since we moved back home. It just felt right to take the offer and come back at this point.”

“I know what you mean. When we moved back, after Corey finished playing, I felt the same thing. Obviously we met a lot of awesome people during our years away, but the ability for the kids to have holidays with their cousins and grow up with some of the same things we did – weekends at the lake, pond hockey, family get-togethers – it makes me happy to be able to give them that.”

“Being near mom again is going a lot better than I thought it would, actually. Both she and Ty love it, and it’s been a godsend even with Bri there to watch Ty.”

“Grandmas live for that kind of thing,” Amy agreed. “One of my friends put it best, I think. She said that it’s good to get out in the world, see new things, meet people, and explore, but she said that eventually Mama Minnesota calls us all home. Not everyone answers her call, and that’s okay, but for those of us that do, we don’t regret it.”

“Mama Minnesota, huh?” He said with a smirk.

Amy arched an eyebrow. “Tell me it’s not true.”

“You’ll get no argument from me, Ames.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” she said with a smile. “You okay to watch the kids on your own? I’m going to go see if I can help Corey with dinner.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go!” Adam said with a waving motion. 

He heard the sliding door open and close as Amy entered the house leaving him alone on the patio. Ty and the other kids were still engrossed in some kind of game that now involved running across the lawn, touching one of the trees, and then running back to jump on a swing superhero-style. He sipped the last of his beer and watched them, smiling at their laughs and shouts.

Adam felt his thoughts turning to Charlie. Had Charlie answered the call of Mama Minnesota when he came back all those years ago? He thought about texting him to ask but wasn’t quite sure how an out of the blue question like that would go over. He’d had a great time at dinner with Charlie and Gordon but hadn’t talked to him in the couple weeks since. With the lead up and then camp itself starting, Adam had spent most of his time getting settled in and being with Ty.

What the hell, it’s just a text. Adam pulled his phone out of the pocket of his cargo shorts.

_Why’d you move home?_

He texted the question before he could think better of it. He clicked out of the message in a hurry before he could become fixated on the little dots indicating a reply was being typed. Standing up, he stretched his legs and slipped his phone back into his pocket. As he crossed the lawn to where the kids were, he heard the sound indicating he had a new text message. Trying not to get his hopes up, Adam grabbed his phone out of his pocket and looked at the display.

 _Long story_

Adam was staring at the display, trying to decide if this was Charlie’s way of telling him to buzz off when another text came through.

_Best told over some food. You in?_

Adam’s heart skipped a beat. Definitely not a brush off. He unlocked his phone and typed a quick reply.

_Busy tonight. Friday? 7? Brewster’s for some pool, food, and long story?_

_See you then_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leia - that date you were asking for is coming up next time! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date or just friends hanging out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this chapter has been a long time coming lol

Charlie lined up his next shot. He liked to think he was at least putting up some kind of a challenge, but it was obvious that Banksy was the far better player of the two of them. He watched as the cue ball slid just to the right of the ball he was aiming for, barely nudging it as it sailed by. 

“Hey guys, food’s up,” the waiter said as he dropped off a couple baskets of food on the table holding their beers. 

“Thank god,” Charlie muttered to himself. He wandered over to the high top table and snagged a couple fries from one of the baskets. 

“Ready to give up?” Banksy asked with a grin as he sunk two balls in a row and lined up his next shot. 

“Finish the damn table so we can eat while the food’s still warm.” 

“Whatever you say, boss.” Banksy finished off the last of his balls and surveyed the layout of the table for a second before pointing his cue stick at the corner pocket. One more shot and he banked the eight ball off the side wall and into the pocket officially marking Charlie’s defeat. 

“I take it you don’t play pool much?” Banksy asked as he set his cue down on the table before climbing into the seat across from Charlie. 

“Nah, not as much as I used too.” Charlie reached across the table and grabbed the hot sauce. He took a look at it for a second. It was Tabasco and not his preferred Cholula so he shook it a few extra times over his burger. He looked up to see Banksy staring at him, his own burger halfway to his mouth. “Oh, sorry, do you want some?” Charlie offered the bottle across the table. 

Banksy shook his head and took a bite of his burger. “So you’re a fan of spicy food, huh?” 

“More or less,” Charlie said. “My taste buds are a little duller than they used to be, so I use hot sauce on a lot of stuff to get some more flavor.” Charlie took a bite of his burger, tasting the vinegary tang of the hot sauce in his mouth. “So you asked me last week why I moved home?” 

Banksy nodded and took a sip of his beer. “Last I heard you were up in Canada playing juniors, and then a little while later I heard you were back in town. How'd you get from A to B?” 

“Basically I aged out and couldn’t play any longer, so I came back home.” 

“Why couldn’t you play any longer?” Banksy asked. At Charlie’s grimace, he quickly added, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to tell me.” 

“I got knocked in the head a few too many times, but the last time was the worst. It took me over a year to recover, and I still deal with the lasting effects.” Charlie watched as Banksy chewed thoughtfully as he listened to his story. 

“What kind of effects?” 

“Taste,” Charlie indicated his hot sauce topped burger with a wry grin. “My vision was affected. Not enough that I can’t drive, but it’s not as good as it used to be. The usual post-concussion cocktail of headaches, light sensitivity, memory issues, some depression.” 

“Wow,” Banksy said. 

Charlie shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not a fun story. Definitely not the way I pictured my career ending. But, as I’ve learned over the years, while my playing career ended, my life didn’t. I’ve adjusted, learned to do things I never thought I’d do, and I get to work at a job that I love and that I’m good at. Not everyone can say that, so I’m definitely lucky.” 

“I’m impressed by your perspective. I don't know if I'd be able to say the same in your position." 

“Yeah well, you can thank Gordon and a shitload of therapy for that.” Charlie dipped a couple fries in some ketchup. “He basically took me in and helped clear the way for all the therapy I needed, busting down different roadblocks the insurance company put up. I seriously don’t know how I could have coped without him. My mom was great, don’t get me wrong, but it was Gordon who was calling the league up in Canada and the insurance companies and raising hell about making sure they covered everything. He took care of all that stuff, so I could just focus on getting better.” 

“I didn’t realize…I mean I’ve had some buddies go through the post-concussion stuff, but they never mentioned anything about fighting insurance, or whatever.” 

“I imagine it’s a little different when you’re in the big league. You have a player’s association and the league has a presence in both the US and Canada. There’s a little more power in your corner.” 

Banksy nodded his head in agreement. There was a lull in conversation while they both chewed their burgers in a companionable silence that was broken only when the waiter swung by to see if they wanted some more beers and refill their waters. 

“So you up for another game?” Banksy crumbled up his napkin and tossed it on his empty plate. 

Charlie groaned. “Aren’t you tired of winning yet?” 

“Nope,” Banksy said with a huge grin. "There's darts, if you're tired of me beating you at pool." 

"I'm a better pool player than a darts thrower." 

"Aw man, that's just sad." 

Charlie shared a grin with Banksy before jostling his shoulder as he passed by to go get his pool cue. It felt good to spend time with his old friend even if he ended up on the losing end of every game they played. Banksy grabbed the chalk, applying it to the tip of his cue, while Charlie began racking the balls for the next round. 

"So, how about you? Are you glad to be back home?" Charlie asked. 

Banksy lined up the cue ball to break and nodded slightly. His face was creased in concentration, and the tip of his tongue teased out of the corner of his mouth. Charlie stifled a grin when he realized it was the exact same face Banksy used to make twenty odd years ago in practice when he lined up against Charlie in face-off drills. It was like stepping back in time and for a minute, Charlie could see gangly, serious, young Banksy in front of him clear as day. Then Banksy let loose with his shot and the resounding crack as the cue ball hit the intended target snapped him out of it. 

"I was ready to be back home, I think. It's been good to be close to mom again. I worried about her being on her own after dad died and with me all over the country...," he trailed off, "it was just hard, you know?" 

Charlie moved back as Banksy surveyed the table and lined up his next shot. "And don't tell anyone I said this, but -" 

Charlie unconsciously leaned forward and nodded his head earnestly. 

Banksy fired off the shot and sunk the ball. He straightened up and glanced around as if to make sure no one else was listening. "But, I don't have much left. This season, maybe one more, and then I'm done." He winked and sauntered around to the end of the table, chuckling. 

Charlie rolled his eyes at his gullibility. "Just how many on the roster are young enough to be your kid?" he shot back. 

"Ouch!" Banksy paused from surveying the table and met his eyes. Charlie felt a little thrill of something, excitement or electricity, zip through his spine and pool low in his belly for a moment as their eyes held. The feeling dissipated as soon as Banksy dropped his eyes and lined up his shot, sinking yet another ball. "I wouldn't get too ambitious with the age jokes over there, considering we're the same age." 

"Sure, but I'm not trying to physically keep up with men half my age." He watched Banksy methodically continue to clear the table. "Why am I even pretending to play this game? I could just sit here, drink my beer, and cheer you on at this rate." 

"How do you know they're not trying to keep up with me?" 

"Are you seriously trying to tell me you can compete against the stamina of an 18 year old?" Charlie laughed. 

"I've never had any complaints," Banksy replied quickly and froze as his words replayed in his mind. "I mean, uh...I didn't-" 

Charlie watched as Banksy tried to stumble his way out of that one, his face flushing more and more as he fumbled his words. 

"Relax, Banksy." 

"I don't want you to think I was coming on to you," Banksy mumbled, his face now beet-red. 

Charlie felt a stab of disappointment that Banksy wasn't flirting with him but buried it down. Just because he was openly bi and they had a good time hanging out together, didn't mean Banksy was attracted to him or anything. Banksy was an attractive and rich professional athlete and Charlie was just, well, he was just Charlie. And he was okay with that. Their lives obviously shared some overlap, and Banksy had reached out to him and accepted his invitation to hang out, but that didn't mean this was anything more than two old friends catching up. 

"As if you could even be on this level," Charlie joked, smiling at the way Banksy's eyes rolled at his statement. "Now finish off this table so we can go try darts and I can suffer more hits to my manly pride." 

"Oh Charlie, you'd have to have pride for it to take any hits." 

Charlie grinned until Banksy's back was turned. The grin slid off his face as he reached out to grab his drink and gulp down the last of the beer. Friends. He could do this. He set his beer glass down and turned back to Banksy to see the other man bent over the table at an angle that pulled his khaki shorts tight against his ass. 

Charlie was so screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> Adam does an interview where he is open about being bisexual. This becomes a major news story and though the interview happens off page, there are reactions within the section including one from a sports radio call in show that contains homophobic sentiments. If you are sensitive to this, please consider having someone you trust preview the section for you or consider skipping it entirely.


End file.
